


Chald Krunger Awareness

by discocalypse



Series: Catquest Colon The Search For Love [1]
Category: TWRP | Tupper Ware Remix Party (Band)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 17:05:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6292663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/discocalypse/pseuds/discocalypse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Havve Hogan loves cats, but the feeling isn't mutual.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chald Krunger Awareness

**Author's Note:**

> 4.20.16: Edited deeply for clarity and consistency of evolved concepts found throughout the remainder of the series. (Also, blaze it.)

Havve Hogan had wanted a cat. There had always been something to desired of the way their fur fell around them in tufts. Limbs tucked under themselves to bask in the afternoon glow. How they’d always seemed to know something that the humans didn’t. How they'd slot their piercing eyes. He’d gotten the impression cats were loyal to those that they loved, and who couldn't use a minion? That they were beings without mercy, and plotted the downfall of all else. With the drum kit pounding away beneath his metal sternum and the heart of a cat, there was a connection. All the more unfortunate that the ache had never seemed to reciprocate towards him.

Earth 871 was currently the drummer’s primary consciousness occupancy, and for good reason. His attention had waned almost in its' entirety towards this hemisphere of the multiverse. A cat trotted out in front of his path, tail hoisted up straight as a flagpole, signaling success of the hunt. Gripped between piercing incisors, the carcass of a large sewer rat. Eviscerated and toted with towards the alleyway the tom had called home. Hogan’s chest swelled with similar pride. Elated for the creature he’d considered a friend immediately. Watching the animal, he fell still across ninety-thousand timelines, absorbed.

The first to notice his elevated silence had been Lord Phobos. Traversing himself through infinitude, he sought the singularity in time. Watching with care, from afar. With the neck of his guitar, he’d given the corresponding vessel of Commander Meouch a nudge. Meouh, in turn raked a careful claw across the fabric at Doctor Sung’s forearm.

"Strange things are afoot at the Circle-K." Consideration had drawn the corners of Sung's mouth downward. His eyes had fallen over the scene. The man beside him was far less impressed.

“He’s doin’ it again,” A low sigh bobbed beneath the surface of Meouch’s vocal cords. His wrist pushed out before him, palm upturned. As if he was serving a plate of ‘take-a-fuckin’-look-at-this-asshole’ to the others. “You think we should snap him out of it?”

“Commander, as you were. I'll allow it.” The corners of Sung’s mouth curled as he shook his head, dismissing Meouch’s concern. Phobos was quick to snap into a nod, locking the visor of his helmet towards the lion’s eyes. Though he and Sung had been supportive of Hogan’s attempts to befriend an Earth feline... Meouch was always quick to voice his displeasure. Above all, because meant sharing his ‘private washroom’, The Commander Commode. In reality, a lot less private than he’d liked to make it sound. A portable box of sand he’d liked to push beneath Sung’s captain’s seat. Hoping he’d spring from his perch and land soles-first. His plan had usually paid off, and would continue for an amount of times equal to each minute longer this went on.

"But last time--" Protests had halted with a half-gloved finger up the snout. Rhythmic shushing had accompanied as Sung rubbed his soggy finger against Meouch's vest.

Sung was careful to deafen his footfalls as he edged closer towards the hunkered form of Havve. The cyborg's attention enraptured by the swirling of his fingers in lure. Should Sung startle the cat or his companion, he’d become a fine paste in the sidewalk. Behind the time-traveler trailed the cautious rocketeer. Not far behind, the ambivalent space pirate, attempting to rub his jumpsuit clean.

“Aw, look at the little fella!” A hushed tone was adopted by the good doctor to suit his purposes. Over his visor flashed a pixelated heart. It was an unwanted advertisement of his soft spot for all Earth’s creatures, tits or no tits. Noticing the bright lights from the back of his HUD, his cheeks burned. He’d cleared his throat and straightened. This departure from usual decorum was bound to cost him.

“Yeah… It’s a fucking cat. So?” Meouch’s voice followed, taking on the same hushed tone as his friend’s. He wasn't exactly sure why he'd accomodated the behaviour himself. A mental note was made to tease Sung about his show of emotion later.

Phobos was quick to shake his head, pointing a finger towards the cyborg. Havve had taken to patting some-what aggressively on the tarmac. 

“Not that little fella. I was talkin' 'bout our little buddy Havve over here.” A smile so wide that the corners of his mouth disappeared past the curvature of his tinted visor. He turned back to the others, motioning over his shoulder with an extended thumb. “You only ever see him like this when he’s around cats. It’s kinda nice… Probably good for him.”

“I guess,” Meouch’s eyes rolled back as he’d considered his leader’s words. “Hogan has been murder-free for a good long while now… Having something soothing in his life. It might be the first step to him cuttin’ back on all the fucking assaults next.”

“Exactly, Commander! If we can get him down past thirty-seven assaults daily, I’d be a proud man. That’d only be one for every Earth hour per day. I could deal with that.”

There was no way Doctor Sung wasn't aware of his numerical fallacy. The smug lift towards the left of his lips was enough to tip Meouch off that he had, indeed, been fucking with him. Intuition dictated if the cantankerous cat had something else to harp on, that would be the end... But there was no out-gaming the DM. Where Sung had excelled in book smarts, Meouch had become slippery in street.

Then again, neither of them were mathemetistmefists, either.

As the others bickered, Phobos had begun his plan of action. Resting his trusty axe against Sung’s hip, he’d shrugged between the others. Cautious, he edged towards where the cat sat, licking it’s paws of blood from it’s meal. With little effort, he’d begun to approach it, dropping down to one knee. As fingers extended, it’s whiskers begun to smooth. It's nose began to bump with curiosity against the pads of Phobos’ fingers, and Hogan had begun to stand.

It hadn’t occurred to Havve that he could have made the same approach. He'd been shell-shocked from all previous encounters with his feline friends. As soon as any cat had taken notice of him, it had immediately bristled and hissed. For as much as he had felt a kinship with the animals, they had felt and equal serving of hatred. It was ironic--The one thing in his life that he had ever felt a desire toward, and they disliked his very aura with such vehemence. The same intensity that had always burned beneath his own surface. Phobos’ keen and gentle nature. The way that he’d been able to glide the pads of his fingers in timid pressure over the small hunter’s glossy coat. How little time it had taken to build the needed trust and rapport. It was enough to send Havve seething. A jealous energy consumed him in a moment. It was quick to break like waves and subside with the guitarist’s next set of actions.

Clothed fingers slid beneath the feline’s form, cradling it’s hind end into the crook of his arm. Phobos hoisted the purring mass into his arms, cradling it close to his chest. His free hand hooked around to gentle scratch the creature below it's chin. The way that one might present a newborn to exchange, so did Phobos to Hogan as he’d closed the gap between them.

Havve, he thought, should have known better than this. Phobos had always been on his side. He was ever eager to help him through any of his anger issues, regardless of severity. Phobos would have never stolen his 'friend' to claim for his own, nor his thunder. The alien in red had only ever helped him, hoping to strengthen some sort of bond. His shaking hands lifted, worried that his presence might cause the creature a disturbance. Should his touch startle the cat and bring harm to Phobos, Sung might become an annoyance.

Behind the pair, observing with bated breath, were the verbal half of the group. Gripping the neck of Phobos’ guitar, Sung, his lips drawn in a grim slit. At his side, Meouch rested with an elbow on Sung’s shoulder. His features contorted in an awe he hadn’t expected of himself. Countless times Havve’s approach of small creatures ended in fight or flight. Ended in spilled blood. Both men met each other’s eyes with jaws hanging. Their expressions finally melted into smiles. They’d realized the cat had changed hands, had continued to purr. In an odd way, they’d felt like proud parents. They's watched their encumbrances interact in a meaningful way for the first time. The Havve Hogan Doctor Sung had brought back to join the living. The Lord Phobos Commander Meouch had forced into a new way of life. Sung was quick to comment.

“Dude, your son just totally made my son’s day.”

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” An exasperated sigh as Meouch knocked Sung away from him. The implication that they were parents of, much less co-parenting, Phobos and Hogan--Outrageous. “You need to get out of my face with this whole ‘Modern Dads’ bullshit. People are gonna get the wrong idea… We already wear goddamn spandex and live together.”

“What, no!” Indignant, Sung pulled the guitar to his chest, walking it over to Phobos. “We totally got the whole Han and Chewie thing goin' on. It’s cool, right? Just two funk specialists havin' a time.”

“I am both my own Han Solo and Chewbacca, thank you very much.” The jungle cat snapped, arms crossing over his front. In a grandiose gesture of dramatics, he’d joined the side of his ‘sons’, as far from Sung as possible. Though he’d felt detached from the situation, his eyes fell to the creature in Havve’s arms. Feigning interest to escape the topic at hand.

The Doctor’s hand reached to the shoulder of his patient, sliding to feel out the 808. The beating's acceleration was noteworthy. Only a moment was needed to feel the other’s excitement against the heel of his palm. A smiling emoticon blinked across the cybernetics embedded in his cone. To his left, Phobos had taken up his instrument once more, plucking a jovial tune to mark the occasion.

“Well, would'ja look at that! He seems to really like you, bud. How wicked is that shit? Slap a name on that bad boy. We'll be teaching our fine little feline friend here the ins and outs of eternity, loyalty and honesty in no time flat!”

Hogan paused a moment, his LED optics blinking, signalling a processing of information. The hand used to scratch the short fur at the crown of the kitty’s head delved into one of the pouches located at his hips. A slender device produced, held tight at the foot of his throat.

“IS NAMING THESE THINGS USUALLY WHAT THE FEEBLE MINDED DO TO INVOKE SOME FLIMSY PSEUDO DOCTRINE OF COMPANIONSHIP?” The voice that exited the plastic mesh speaker came with a sophisticated English cadence. When met with a nod of affirmation by Phobos, Havve continued on. “HE IS A CANADIAN TREASURE, AND I QUITE HUNGER FOR THE KRUNGER. I WILL CHRISTEN HIM CHALD.”

“Well hey, party the fuck on! A handsome name for a handsome little dude!” Sung’s finger began to tickle Chald’s nose, but a warning flicker from Havve's LEDS halted it. The keytarist retracted his hand as though smoothing over hair that didn’t exist. A misguided attempt to save face. Meouch, of course, wouldn’t let this slide after Sung had gotten under his skin. He’d given him mercy already with his affections bleeding through moments before. Browbeating his leader further, the commander spoke through the cigar clenched in his teeth.

“Smooth one, Rob Thomas.” Accompanying the chide, Phobos finger-picked the opening rift of the corresponding Santana hit. An impromptu medley formed, the melodies bleeding into those of Into The Night. This coaxed a chuckle from Meouch as he cupped a hand over the tip of his cigar and bobbed it into the flame of his lighter. His need to be vindictive sated for now. Inhaling and voiding his lungs, the smuggler’s voice came again at it’s usual register. “Ask ‘im what you were gonna ask ‘im already. We don’t got all day to just stand around in an ally lookin’ suspicious.”

“How did you know I was gonna ask him anything?” Neon green fizzled over the projection screen of Sung’s HUD, this time in the form of an interrobang.

“You think I don’t know by now?” Uninterested in furthering his point, Meouch drifted from the pack. His eyes fell over a group of women hustling toward a bus enclosure. Of course, this wasn’t the only reality he’d indulged in making eyes at cute girls by any means. Deciding to let this group slide past him, he realized the guys seemed to need him present at the moment. Flicking the butt of his cigar with his thumb, he’d gravitated back towards them.

Exhaustion with Meouch’s stereotypical catlike behavior palpable, Sung had taken a deep breath. Holding it within his cheeks, he’d attempted to de-stress before he misspoke. A man of his caliber had deserved respect, in his mind. He’d only been trying to voice desire to do a good thing for a friend from the beginning. Sung was no push-over, but a part of him believed that he’d deserved this treatment for what he was to propose. A person like Meouch would brief to feel jealous about no longer being the only cat in the Groove Station. With a groan, Sung set aside the bout of bad behaviour, placing emphasis on his starting syllable.

“Riiight.” Digits scratched the stubble accumulating at the jawline of his vessel. Situations such as this required prudence in the selection of words. Lord Phobos and Havve looked on in interest of the words Meouch had already anticipated. “Before I was so rudely interrupted by our resident diva, I was thinking, you know… Maybe Chald could chill with us for a bit? We’ve been purveyors of party and friendship for a good long while now. Might as well branch out inter-species, hey?”

“COMPUTING.”

A sudden surge of concepts flooded the edges of Havve’s consciousness as he’d begun to mull it over. So entrenched in his own thoughts, the anguished sigh of the Commander never reached him. The only thing that had seemed to shine though was the patient smile Doctor Sung directed toward him. It was the same quiet strength that had made itself known of Lord Phobos. Finally, Havve had clued in to it. Sung had accepted the role of butt-monkey through the entirety of their mainstay of 871 for a reason. It was for his sake, and the twisted sense of responsibility that Sung had likely felt for his life. The way Sung fought Boredom, wished to protect the people of Earth from ruin at it's hands... The mission didn't end on Earth. It reached across the stars, and to the beings assembled to help him succeed. It put things in perspective for the cyborg as he’d hugged Chald in a covetous manner once more. It was time for him to do the same.

"I BELIEVE THAT TOGETHER CHALD AND I WOULD BE CAPABLE OF PUTTING AN END TO PHIL COLLINS ONCE AND FOR ALL. OH, WHAT FUN THE THREE OF US WOULD HAVVE. BUT." Catching the purring lump between his thumbs, the bot held the feline before him. Chald's front paws drooped over the edges of of his fleshy, organic hands, locking gazes. His tiny skull lulled to rest against the back of Havve's left hand with a sleepy mewl. "AS MUCH AS IT PAINS ME, DIPLOMACY MUST BE MET WITH DIPLOMACY. TIME TO PUT THE BUNNY BACK IN THE BOX, OR SO TO SPEAK."

Pain. A word the whole of Tupperware Remix Party never heard Havve use in reference to himself. The surprise of it leaving his throat speeded the process, unwilling to deal with it in front of the others. Placing the cat at his feet, he scratched Chald beneath the chin one last time.

"FORCING A NATURAL BORN HUNTER TO JOIN US WOULD DEFEAT YOUR CAUSE. IT WOULD QUICKLY BECOME BORED ONCE WE LEFT THE GROOVE STATION, AND THERE WOULD BE NO PREY ABOARD TO KEEP IT OCCUPIED. I THINK THAT CHALD WOULD MUCH PREFER TO CARRY ON AS HE ALREADY HAD. HE HAS MANY MORE YEARS OF BLOODSHED LEFT WITHIN HIM. IT WOULD BE SELFISH TO ASK CHALD TO RETIRE WITH ME WHEN HE DOESN'T HAVE THE MENTAL CAPACITY TO COMPREHEND WHY."

Meouch's teeth ground, musing, against the wet end of his smoke. As the full weight of Hogan's words hit him, he lifted his chin to scan Doctor Sung for a reaction. It was evident that Sung had absorbed the speech, if only by how his chest had inflated with new-found drive. Sung was as intelligent as his chin had definition, after all.

Chald's tail swished in the breeze as it'd brushed against the leg of the man that had once held onto him so tightly. Rearing up on his haunches his front claws tugged the fabric over Havve's calves. It longed to return to his touch, chattering for the attention denied to it all his life as an alley cat. Havve did not falter, offering only a detached stroke between Chald's prickled ears.

"IN ANY CASE, YOU PISSWIZARDS WOULD JUST FUCK IT UP. I DO NOT NEED YOU THREE MAKING HIM SOFT AND RUINING HIM WITH YOUR HORRIBLE COLOUR SENSE OR LACK OF UNDERSTANDING OF BASIC RITUALISTIC MURDER RITES. SHOULD CHALD NEED TO CREATE A DEVIL'S CIRCLE TO OFFER COMMUNION TO THE INGLORIOUS TRIMAGE DOCTOR SAGAN, WE WOULD PREFER NO LESS THAN THE CRISPEST FUCKING BLOODRUNES BE ETCHED AGAINST THE FLESH OF UNBELIEVERS. YOU SCUMBAGS WOULD PROBABLY FIND A WAY TO DICK IT OVER, LIKE YOU ALWAYS FUCKING DO."

The tune that Lord Phobos had been occupying himself with halted by a flattened hand. Things had taken such a strange turn, and yet he felt relieved. Hogan was returning to himself, glossing over the disappointment he'd instilled in himself.

"Think you might be mixing Sagan up with that other guy aga--You know what? Never mind. Good talk, bud." A stormy expression crossed Sung's face as he patted Havve's shoulder thrice. Plodding gait, echoing metallic, propelled the cyborg forward. No time was alotted for pause look back at the cat seated at the curb. It was better to forget as soon as possible than to twist the knife, after all. The metal of Havve's form seemed magnetic, the rest following at their own paces. Relieved to have escaped the possibility of a bad situation.

It wasn't more than 10 steps later that Sung had felt a tight grip, catching his right trapezius. Pulled into the orbit of the taller Commander Meouch, fang like incisors glinted a wide grin.

"Sorry I ever doubted you, Doctor Sung. You're the best damn partner I ever had. Maybe you're Chewie material after all."

"I came back in time for you, Commander Meouch, and dammit--I love you." As much as Sung had wished to protest that he'd intended to be Han, he decided on a more meaningful course of action. The repetition of the utterance his role was known for. "Mmmmmrrrrhhhrrrrr."

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is 100% preamble to a bit of a more ambitious idea... basically serves to illustrate a plethora of headcanons that have been rattling around in the ol' dome for some time now. 
> 
> A goal that I'd had for this was to bring the boys down a notch to humanize their personalities a bit. It's my belief that not everyone can be so extra all the time, and I know others may not agree with that, so take it or leave it. However you feel, the reality is that I'd wanted them gently subdued. But not entirely. Their goofy nature is what makes them so fun. I tried not to take it as seriously as I've just made it sound. 
> 
> Havve Hogan is, of course, the character I am the most invested in, so there's a bit of a bias towards him in my writing. I struggled a bit with the proper voice I'd intended for Doctor Sung to have, so I apologize if he sounds a little strange. Still tinkering a bit with that one for next time!


End file.
